<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>Going Down by dansunedisco</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26531266">Going Down</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/dansunedisco/pseuds/dansunedisco'>dansunedisco</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Sanditon (TV 2019), Sanditon - Jane Austen</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Crack Treated Seriously, Elevator Sex, F/M, Modern Era, Trapped In Elevator</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 05:42:11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,047</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26531266</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/dansunedisco/pseuds/dansunedisco</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Charlotte and Sidney are trapped together in an elevator. What's the worst that can happen?</p><p>-</p><p>Or: this author tries to satisfy some people by writing Sidlotte having elevator sex.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Charlotte Heywood/Sidney Parker</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>68</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>176</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Going Down</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Charlotte’s morning couldn’t get much worse. She missed both her alarm and her bus; and, having left her flat in her haste to make her route on time, left her umbrella by the door. It was a combination of unusual and unfortunate events which led to her arriving at Babington Plaza soaked, soggy, and dripping with water. Indeed what had started as a light drizzle had transformed into a summer deluge of astronomical proportions, and wasn’t that par for the course of her life?</p><p>Other than being plain mortifying -- the side-eyes and scandalized glances had started the moment she’d entered the lobby -- it was also unprofessional. Self-castigation followed her and her squishy shoes to the elevator, however, and hopefully made up for it. Hitting the button for the sixth floor (which, coincidentally, had the best unisex toilet and hand dryer; a fact known to one Charlotte Heywood due to a coffee spill incident not yet a month old), she prayed for a blessed respite of an empty lift.</p><p>This was, of course, asking too much of the universe. As she was trying to gamely ignore everyone and everything while repeatedly jabbing her index finger against the ‘close’ button, Sidney Parker and his Hugo Boss suit popped out of the ether and slid in through the closing doors.</p><p>The startled double-take he gave her was obvious. As was the eyebrow raise and his smarmy, chastising smirk. “Swim to work, Heywood?” he asked.</p><p>She bristled but did not take the bait. Sidney Parker was an idiot finance bro who worked several floors above her own and only crept out of his evil lair-cum-dungeon to guzzle black coffee, whiskey, and the souls of the innocent. Meaning he deserved none of her attention at all. Instead of a verbal reply, she fixed him with a pleasant and very fake smile she hoped spoke volumes. <em> Fuck you very much</em>, it said. Perhaps even, <em> I hope you fall into the Thames later tonight. </em></p><p>To no one’s surprise, he responded in kind -- and, for a moment, they were two stubborn people on an elevator grinning like maniacs, unwilling to give into niceties even for the sake of them.</p><p>A cheerful ding shattered the moment. Teeth bared and cheeks tight from her grimacing smile, Charlotte stepped out as soon as the doors cracked open. Unable to keep herself from firing one last parting shot, however, she called out over her shoulder, “Have a horrible day now!”</p><p>“You too!” he replied.</p><p>Without another look back, she walked on. The sixth floor and its hand dryer waited.</p><p> </p><p>-</p><p> </p><p>Despite its horrible start, Charlotte’s day proceeded without further hiccups. She’d managed to salvage her clothes and even earned a backhanded compliment from Esther Denham on her messy bun. Both very solid wins in her book.</p><p>After settling into her work -- not at all thinking of ‘Sidney Parker: Top Floor Cad’ as she did -- the hours flew by.</p><p>She came up for air hours later. Clara Brereton from marketing hovered over her desk. “Coming for drinks tonight, Charlotte?” she asked. A knowing, flirty smile was on her beautiful face. “It’s Fri-<em>yay </em> and a few of the <em> boys </em>from upstairs should be joining us. Fun, fun, fun!”</p><p>Charlotte couldn’t think of less appealing company. She tried on her most apologetic look. “Oh, goodness. Sorry, Clara, I’m really quite behind actually--” She wasn’t, but Clara didn’t need to know that, “--and I was planning on staying for a bit to talk to Esther about some figures…”</p><p>She trailed off, seeing the uninterested glaze settle over Clara’s eyes. </p><p>“Maybe next time?” she said finally.</p><p>Clara perked up immediately, undoubtedly already fixed on the next great adventure, and said, “Of course, darling! Next time!” She breezed away with a wiggle of her fingers, heels click-clacking as she went.</p><p>With that, Charlotte realized a second too late that she’d essentially secured herself into staying in the offices until everyone left for evening drinks. Denham Publishing was a small venture and a close-knit group. Charlotte’s absence, much like her presence, would be noted, timed, and scrutinized. Clara was <em> the </em> office socialite. She knew what everyone did and who everyone did, as if devouring gossip was the only substance that sustained her. Unless Charlotte wanted more of Clara’s hovering and pestering… she was stuck.</p><p><em> Oh well</em>, she thought. There were at least two more book covers she needed to render and clean up in time for next week’s meeting, and it was just as well she now had the time to do them both.</p><p>Picking up her stylus with a beleaguered sigh, she dove back in.</p><p> </p><p>-</p><p> </p><p>By the time the last person rang out for the night, it was nearly three hours past Charlotte’s normal clock-out -- and she was tired, miserable, and famished. Nibbling on the last of her emergency bag of crisps and wishing she’d quit her stubbornness and just <em> went </em>to drinks, company be damned, she crammed her notebook and tablet into her bookbag.</p><p>In the daytime, Babington Plaza was a bustling mini-metropolis; people hustling here and there, running from one meeting to another, et cetera and so on. At night, it was an altogether different picture.</p><p>It was empty, it echoed, and, honestly, the normally stunning ceiling-to-floor windows and their cityscape view felt creepy. The fluorescent lighting made it near impossible to see out properly, but Charlotte knew anyone could see <em> her </em> if they only looked in. With a slight shiver, she dashed to the lift bay and called one.</p><p>After a moment, the little screen above one door lit up. The red numbers told her the ride was coming down from one of the topmost floors. She wondered, laughing a bit to herself, if she would be riding down with some Type-A workaholic executive. Surely he -- or she, or they -- would not expect <em> her </em>at this hour.</p><p>The lift chimed. The doors slid open.</p><p>“Are you <em> kidding </em>me?” she murmured under her breath.</p><p>It was Sidney Parker. His tie was loose and a leather satchel bag was slung across his chest. Purely on the merit of aesthetics, Charlotte could acknowledge the man was fit, fine, and five-star. A chef’s kiss to Mr. and Mrs. Parker and their blend of DNA.</p><p>“Going down, Heywood?” he asked. </p><p>She’d been staring at him, stunned, for so long the doors had started to close again, and he’d been forced to kick his bespoke shoe out to catch the edge. He beckoned her in now with an exaggerated wave.</p><p>Swallowing around the lump in her throat, she joined him.</p><p>They played the elevator shuffle. He stepped to the side to give her room. She turned to face the exit. The door shut. They stood shoulder to shoulder -- Charlotte bouncing on the balls of her feet, Sidney’s clutching at his bag -- facing the gleaming mirror-finish of the lift’s interior. A mechanical hum started up and they began to descend.</p><p>“Not at drinks?” she asked lightly after a moment. She’d purposefully declined so she wouldn’t have to see him — and yet, here he was. Internally, she was shaking her fist very vigorously at the universe. </p><p>“Keeping tabs on me?” he drawled in response.</p><p>She rolled her eyes. “<em>No</em>,” she said childishly. “Clara invited me, too.”</p><p>“Ah. Yes. <em> Clara</em>.”</p><p>A flash of irritation shot up Charlotte’s spine. <em> Clara</em>. He said her name with such -- intimacy. There was no way they’d--? Right? She shook her head.</p><p>Why was the elevator moving so slowly?</p><p>Just as the thought crossed her mind, the elevator shuddered and groaned; the soft mechanical hum turned into a grinding screech; the lights flickered; and with a panicked yelp, Charlotte realized the elevator was going <em> down </em>and at speed.</p><p>“Oh my god,” she cried, a sentiment Sidney echoed, and she threw herself shamelessly into his arms; the only comfort available as they hurtled to the ground. She braced herself for the worst, eyes clenched shut, but the elevator gave one final jerk and came to a sudden halt. </p><p>Chests heaving together, Charlotte looked up and Sidney stared down. Adrenaline coursed through her veins. Her knees weakened and began to buckle. Her arms tightened around his neck; his arms tightened around her waist.</p><p>A memory floated up -- three months ago; a drunken hook-up. Her legs around his hips as he drove into her, again and again, until she was delirious and needy and moaning under him. The next morning: waking up and realizing she’d slept with her coworker's younger brother, the finance guy who lived in a three-storied walk-up in Bloomsbury. Then: Collecting her clothes. Running from the flat. Pretending like it never happened.</p><p>The brief flash of hurt in his eyes as they met again in Babington Plaza the next workweek before the look cooled to subzero temperatures.</p><p>The way she convinced herself he was the worst Parker brother... so she’d quit thinking he was the best.</p><p>“Are you alright?” he asked now, shattering the moment.</p><p>Realizing she was basically holding onto him for dear life, she loosened her arms and stepped back. She was shaken up, but otherwise fine. “Yeah,” she replied, dropping her gaze. She couldn’t look him in the eyes any longer. “Let’s try and get out of here, yeah?”</p><p> </p><p>-</p><p> </p><p>“It’ll be two hours,” said Sidney. He slammed the emergency phone back onto its hook with a grunt.</p><p>Charlotte groaned. </p><p>After the initial panic of being trapped together in an elevator, she and Sidney had sprung into action. They’d tried to pry the door open, but it’d barely parted… and there was no way Charlotte was willing to reenact a horror movie scene by shimmying her way through a teeny-tiny crack and up the ledge. And, despite what Hollywood movies led one to believe, popping off the ceiling panel and crawling up the shaft was not as easy or simple as it looked. It was also, according to the internet, not advisable nor safe to attempt.</p><p>“Two hours?” she asked faintly.</p><p>“There was a massive storm surge, apparently,” he explained. “Multiple accidents; the trains aren’t running; the roads are blocked. My best guess is when the power went out, it took a moment for the back-up generator in Babington Plaza to start up. Hence the plunge.”</p><p>“And what if the power cuts out again?” A cold shiver ran through her.</p><p>“I’m assured there are failsafes,” he said gently. “Brakes that will hold us in place. The lift requires a full system reset before it’ll go anywhere.”</p><p>She eyed him dubiously. “If you say so.”</p><p>He shrugged. “Believe me or don’t. It doesn’t matter,” he replied. “We’re both trapped here either way. Since we have running lights and working ventilation we are, unfortunately, a low priority for rescue at the moment.”</p><p>It all sounded fair enough, but that didn’t mean Charlotte had to like it. The crisps from earlier hadn’t done much to satisfy her hunger -- and what if he had to pee? </p><p>They eyed one another dubiously.</p><p>She folded her arms. As did he.</p><p>At least two hours stuck in an elevator with Sidney Parker.</p><p>What could possibly happen?</p><p> </p><p>-</p><p> </p><p>The minutes dragged by. It felt like forever had passed, but when Charlotte next checked her phone, it had only been five minutes. Worse yet, she’d deleted all her game apps in a bid to Marie Kondo her life -- and the one bar of internet service wasn’t enough to load any of her guilty pleasure gossip websites. She’d sent a text message to her family to apprise them of her unlucky situation, but either they were ignoring her or their responses weren’t coming back through. Besides Sidney Parker, she was alone.</p><p>“You can sit down, you know,” said Sidney, from his newfound place on the floor. His expensive jacket was laid out like a picnic blanket, and he gestured to the sliver of fabric not taken up by him. His bag was next to him. “We’re not going anywhere.”</p><p>After a moment’s hesitation, she did. Standing for two hours while she twiddled her thumbs was pointless, after all. “Thanks,” she said. “And-- sorry, I suppose.”</p><p>“For what?”</p><p>“Sitting on your coat.”</p><p>“You are?” He bumped his shoulder against hers. “Unacceptable. Shove off, please.”</p><p>She laughed a bit. “You’re really very calm about all this.”</p><p>“I’m screaming internally,” he replied. “You?”</p><p>“The same,” she said. “I really thought-- well. I wasn’t expecting such an eventful evening.”</p><p>“If only we’d gone to drinks.”</p><p>She threw her hands up. “Exactly! God, I will never hear the end of this.”</p><p>“You?” He raised his eyebrow. “Lord Babington will never cease hearing from<em> me</em>. His building nearly killed us.”</p><p>They shared amused smiles -- a marked contrast from their earlier encounter.</p><p>Suddenly, the memory of them together jumped forefront in Charlotte’s mind: evening drinks; their heads tipped together; chatting and laughing about nothing at all; the decision to kiss him on the curb and follow him into his taxi. Going up the steps behind him. Falling into his bed.</p><p>It had been an unforgettable night -- no matter how she tried to forget it.</p><p>Perhaps Sidney was thinking along the same lines. Perhaps not. </p><p>All Charlotte knew was that the air shifted between them. One minute, they were two unlikely near-strangers trapped in an elevator; and in the next, she was in his lap, locked against him in a desperate, frenzied kiss.</p><p>She ground her hips down and found he was hard already; the very thought of her very real effect on him punched a breathy moan from her throat. He pulled her closer with a groan of his own, changing the kiss into the deeper, messy kind.</p><p>“Charlotte,” he said, between a breath, “let me go down on you--”</p><p>She shook in his arms; she remembered he’d spent a <em> lot </em> of time pleasing her that way, drawing out orgasm after orgasm with his clever tongue. “We’re in an<em> elevator</em>,” she gasped instead. He was peppering open-mouthed kisses on her bared throat, and he hummed against her, an amused little sound.</p><p>“We have two hours to kill,” he said; he’d found his way under her shirt, and he was thumbing her nipple through her bra. It was maddening, tipping her into an insanity that made her hiss out, “Okay, <em> yes</em>.”</p><p>She didn’t think. With a hurried reordering of his jacket, he laid her back and hooked his fingers into her tights -- she’d worn a skirt earlier in the day, but had borrowed Clara’s emergency morning-after bottoms -- but the reality of what the hell she was doing was lost as he pulled the fabric down and bared her to him.</p><p>“No panties?” he asked, but her response was only a moan -- he’d wasted no time in putting his mouth on her, his fingers parting her folds as he licked a long stripe against her cunt. His tongue was burning hot, swirling around the hood of her clit before he settled on a gentle suck. She throbbed and arched, her hips rising up to ride his face in tight, undulating motions she couldn’t control. She cried out as he continued drawing her pleasure out, and it took an embarrassingly short time before she was teetering on the edge. Oral was her weak spot, and Sidney Parker knew it.</p><p>“I’m-- I’m going to--” she moaned, thighs beginning to tighten around his ears; but he wrenched her legs apart and pressed on against her with a broken off groan; his needy noises, as if he were so happy to be here eating her out, drove her further to the edge -- and with one more desperate arch of her hips, he hit the spot, and she was coming just as she knew she would. She cried out. Her fingers dug into his scalp. Her legs clamped together. He let them, tongue and jaw working against her, bringing her off longer and harder than anyone else ever had.</p><p>She floated down in a haze, and let herself be pulled back into his lap. She heard the telltale sound of a zip coming undone; felt the blunt tip of his cock nudging at her soaked entrance. She wanted him badly; just as badly as he wanted her. She kissed him, shuddering as she tasted herself on his lips. Lifting up on her knees, she next settled down on him, crying out as he stretched her. He’d been her last in a very long time, and she'd nearly forgotten how big he was. She had to take him inch by inch. He shuddered as she did, whispering how good she felt and how tight she was as she began to move, up and down, in counterpoint to his own thrusts.</p><p>Time melted away. All she knew was the feel of him moving inside of her, the drag of his thick cock against her inner walls and the obscene, wet sounds of them moving together. She was close again, riding him and that edge; his thumb wedged between them to circle her clit, as if he knew exactly what she needed and when, and she quickly spun off with a silent scream. </p><p>She fell against his chest afterward, breathing heavily and boneless; sparks of bliss tingling up her spine as he gripped her hips to drag her up and down his cock as he chased his own pleasure. </p><p>His breath clipped her ear, growing more and more labored until he gave one final, trembling thrust into her.</p><p>They stayed pressed together for a long while.</p><p>As the heat died down between them, embarrassment on Charlotte's part quickly set it.</p><p>The clarity afforded by two earth-shattering orgasms made Charlotte blush deeply -- and remember that there was a camera in the corner. Wasn’t there? And night guards to watch them?</p><p>What the hell had she been thinking? She climbed off Sidney and pulled Clara’s tights back on with a sore -- and mildly apologetic -- wince. From the corner of her eye, she saw Sidney tuck himself back into his trousers.</p><p>“Well,” she said, blinking out of her stunned stupor. “That happened.”</p><p>He nodded. There was an equally dazed look on his face. “It did,” he agreed.</p><p>The doors of the elevator remained shut. They still had a <em> lot </em>of time left to kill and there was no escape to be had.</p><p>They shared a look; neither party sure of what would come next between them.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>scream at me on twitter @dansunedisco w/ #ElevatorFic if you'd like :)</p></blockquote></div></div>
</body>
</html>